Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
Avril
I walk into the bar where Ben suggested we meet and scan the patrons. I don’t see him. I check the time on my phone. It’s six thirty-two. He said six thirty. I lift my head up again…and he’s staring straight at me from across the room.
My stomach curls over and a shiver chases up my spine. It’s so good to see him. Better than good. It’s fantastic. It’s like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
I smile shyly and make my way over, never taking my eyes from him. He doesn’t look away either. It’s like he’s reeling me in toward him with his gaze.
“It’s good to see you,” I say, without thinking.
But I can’t not say it. It is really good to see him.
I’ve missed him. My bed isn’t as comfortable as I thought it was before staying with Ben.
And the water pressure isn’t anything like the shower in his apartment.
Yes, it’s definitely the bed and water pressure that’s making Ben look so good this evening.
His hair seems to have grown since I last saw him, and it looks a little lighter than before. I hold back an urge to push the hair away from his face.
But what am I supposed to do to say hello? Kiss him? Wave? Hug? I’m not sure how this will go down.
But I don’t need to worry. Ben bends and envelops me in a hug. His arms are warm and strong and his delicious scent of sandalwood and cinnamon permeates my muscles and I sink against him. He feels like home.
Our hug lasts a little longer than it needs to, longer than most hugs between two people who haven’t known each other for more than a few weeks. I wonder if he’s trying to say something, or whether I am.
His hands squeeze my body and desire snakes through me. I want his palm on my stomach. His tongue on my neck. I sigh.
He pulls back and we stand there, staring at each other. I have so much to say but can’t find the words to say anything at all.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod my head. “Yes.” My tone is resolute. I feel very okay. Making the decision about the hotel in Boston was right for so many reasons. Best of all, Worth respects my decision.
Feeling like my brother respects me lifts a burden from me that I’ve been pulling behind me for my entire life. Letting go of Boston was like stepping over a threshold from little sister to business partner. All the while, I thought getting Boston would be the key when the opposite was true.
“Good,” Ben says.
“How are you?” I ask.
“I think I’m good too.”
“That sounds interesting,” I say. Ben isn’t usually unsure about anything. The fact that he only thinks he’s good is intriguing.
He smirks. “Does it? I’m all the better for seeing you. That’s what I mean. Let’s sit.”
I know it’s his canned charm, but if I squint, I can believe what he’s saying to me is the only time he’s ever used that line.
He pulls out a chair from the low table and I glance around. “Should I get drinks or…”
“I have wine. Do you want something else?”
“Wine works,” I say, as I take a seat, willing him to touch me, to graze my shoulder or slide his legs against mine. He pours me a glass, and I don’t take my eyes off him as his large hand spans the bottle and his gaze concentrates carefully on the pour.
“Should we make a toast?” he says. “To you not falling in love with me?” He raises his glass.
“Hmmm.” I’m not ready to make that toast. I’m mildly suspicious about toasts. They have to be genuine. “Maybe later.” I take a sip. “Oh, we’ve had this before,” I say.
“Well remembered,” he says. “We had it at the Met.”
“I had a really good time that night.” I search his face looking for clues that he might have missed me.
“I always have a really good time with you.” I haven’t planned what to say tonight.
I know the man in front of me has a line of women around the block ready and willing to do whatever it is that he wants them to do.
But I feel like I have to say something.
I don’t want to feel the things I do for Ben, and for him to never know.
“What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?” he asks.
He wants to get right down to business. He’s probably got a packed schedule tonight and doesn’t want to waste time chatting to me when he could be out making contacts, doing deals, having dinner with someone else.
My heart pinches in my chest, and I remind myself that even though I don’t expect Ben to feel the same way, I do have to tell him how I feel. I don’t want to have any regrets.
“Oh yes, about that,” I say, trying to be businesslike.
He smiles at me like I’ve lost my goddamned mind, which I may well have done.
“This is awkward, and you’re probably going to think I’ve wasted a lot of your time, and if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, then I’d be happy to do whatever it is you need—I mean, even move in again…” I laugh manically. “The water pressure at your place is really good. And even—”
“Are you okay?” he interrupts, his eyebrows pulled together.
I straighten in my seat and pull my shoulders back. I really should have practiced this. “I’m nervous,” I say. “I don’t want you to hate me.”
He shakes his head. “Never.”
“You haven’t heard what I’m going to tell you.”
“There’s nothing you could say.” His tone is soft, and he scans my face like he’s trying to fix something.
My heart flips at the idea that there’s nothing I could say that could make Ben hate me. I’m about to put that to the test.
“We’re not going ahead with the Boston hotel, even though you’ve put us in contact with Patrick and everything is progressing,” I say as quickly as possible. “We’re going to go with the Fifth Avenue hotel.”
His expression is impossible to read. This is business-mode Ben. The Ben that gives nothing away and manages to placate every side in a negotiation. He’s good.
“Worth doesn’t want to do Boston?” he asks, his voice entirely neutral.
“I don’t want to do Boston.”
His eyebrow pulses up, conveying his shock in a very muted way. “I thought that was the thing you wanted most of all. You were prepared to do just about anything to get it, as I recall.”
My heart is pounding in my chest as he speaks. “Yes. You’re right. It was the thing I wanted most of all. And now it’s not.”
“Simple as that,” he says.
“Right,” I say. “Simple as that.” I squint. “Well, not as simple as that. It’s not at all as simple as that.”
“Interesting,” he says.
“Is it?” I ask.
He pulls in a deep breath. “Yeah.”
I want to know what he’s thinking. I’m just getting a smattering of single words.
I’ve never found Ben hard to read until right at this moment.
Does he think I’m a maniac? Does he hate me or does he see this as an opportunity?
An opportunity to have a relationship with someone who doesn’t want anything from him but him.
I take a swig of my wine, as I try to think of the right words, but all I can think about is how I want to know what he’s thinking. He hasn’t had any reaction at all.
I put down my glass with a little more force than I was expecting. “What does ‘interesting’ and ‘yeah’ mean?” I ask. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time. I mean that. But have some reaction. What are you thinking?”
Ben’s eyes widen. “I’m reacting,” he says with a grin. “It’s happening on the inside is all.”
“Well, can you turn yourself inside out? I want to understand.” I give him an exaggerated frown.
He shakes his head like I’m incorrigible and bites back a smile. “I’m having a lot of different reactions.”
“Are you mad?” I ask. I don’t want him to be angry with me, but if he is, I get it. I’ve taken up a lot of his time and energy.
“Not in the slightest,” he replies.
“But I wasted your time.”
“It doesn’t feel like that to me.”
What does that even mean? There’s no doubt I took up a lot of his time and attention. It’s like he’s talking in riddles.
“Do you disagree with the decision?” I ask. Maybe he’s focused on the financials. Maybe he’s trying to hold back from telling me I should go with the Boston hotel.
He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Generally, I think it’s good to expand locally before going further afield. But it would depend on the financial model and the market research and I don’t have access to either, so I can’t say.”
“So you’re not interested in what I want more than anything else in the world, if it’s not the Boston hotel?”
He holds my gaze, his expression frozen, as if he isn’t sure he wants to hear what I have to say.
“Do you want to tell me?” he asks.
Now it’s clear what’s happening. He’s trying not to tell me what he’s thinking. He wants me to show my hand first.
Then so be it.
“Ahhh. The Ben East answer a difficult question with a difficult question technique,” I say, teasing him. This easy playfulness between us is what I’ve missed most. Second most—he really does look incredible naked.
A smile curls around his mouth, and I want to lean forward and press my lips against his “You know all my secrets.”
“I don’t. But I want to.”
His eyes narrow, and he holds my gaze.
“That’s why I gave up Boston,” I say on a whisper. “I don’t want to be just someone else in New York who needed your help. Someone else who employed you for your contacts. I didn’t want to be someone who used you.”
Silence winds between us, but instead of squirm, I let it shift and move. I need Ben to really hear what I’m saying to him.
“You gave up on Boston because you didn’t want me to be involved?”
“I gave up on Boston because I want to be someone you can trust. I don’t think that would be possible if I was someone you had to help or use your network for someone whose problems you solved.
You don’t want messiness, or to mix business and personal stuff, but I think what you’re saying is that we need the playing field to be equal. ”
“We do?” he asks, his tone shocked.
Doubt starts to gush in from all sides, and I suddenly wonder if I’ve been imagining everything between Ben and me. Maybe what we had together is no big deal to him. But that idea fills me with panic because I know that it’s a big deal to me. A really big deal.